"pulsation" poems
(gulp)
Couldn’t resist a minute more.
Relapse.
I again…
After six months sober...
Here.
In this pain I know all too well.
Ten years lost to this drug my veins ache for.
First breath in the morning and last thought at night, all consumed by it.
Every cell in me craves it.
That physical euphoria my body portraits.
Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.
It makes me feel so content
Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.
It's like the ecstasy of ******* that first blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphins and serotonin.
This is what I feel when I first take LOVE.
And then...
And then, the honeymoon stage is over.
Fights erupt.
Never-ending debates.
Miscommunications.
Misperceptions.
No trust.
Accusations.
Lies.
“I’m done...”
…
Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.
Again, sitting here numb.
A toxic love...
I’m addicted to,
And there’s no way around it.
It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.
Yet, no matter the toxic, tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.
To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkles and grows old is what my heart will always desire— to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.
Dead air…
So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
Onam Reminds
Onam reminds me of the venomous mind
That overthrew a just ,kind king ,unkind
Aryan imperialism subjugating the Dravid
The white over the black , dark apartheid
Justice of the black is unjust for the white
A matter of jealousy, dissatisfaction and fight.
For the British, Indians were raw to be refined
As Allopaths frown upon Ayurvedics as bad.
But, what is the truth? think of the covered past
Weigh evidences: from history, literature and art
Of all non-whites; really, they were and are super
In many respects, hence, awake from your stupor.
India shall not be a kite of any ruler outside
No race is Blessed to override anyone beside;
Almighty considers all equals - by their deeds
It is That, that fosters all by weighing our deeds.
When greed of man rudely jeopardizes the Nature
Nature jeopardizes human life, making a fracture.
Torrential rain or draught is a positive measure
Applied by It on earth (as earth-quake) to treasure.
Man like Vamana tries to grow and measure the earth
Other planets ,heaven or hell to exploit Nature’s wealth
As Jehovah ,the Almighty, Brahma, or Allah, the Cause
Of that Pulsation is everywhere, beware man! and pause!
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
Hear the asynchronous pulsation,
Clicks of eyelids, toggling,
And the beating of a heart:
A Life, in thick layers of rhythms,
Coating a stubborn core.
Watch the white curtain of the mansion,
Behind windows, dancing,
And the fire in the hearth:
A Life, in thick layers of stones,
Glowing out with warmth.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
in action , inaction
in inaction, action
precarious balance
YOU AND I ARE HERE
higgs boson......pulsation
yinning and yanging
the bed keeps bouncing
UP AND DOWN
creation.....unceasing
apparent sensation
of repetition
apparent sensation
of difference
other than
YIN and YANG
aleph
(alpha)
and
tov
(omega)
centers of centaurs
and of course the
dragons
( and unicorns)
YOU AND I ARE HERE
in the cornicoupia
in the fertile valley
on the frieght train headin west
huddled gainst the lover's breast
try live awhile then try death
the bed keeps bouncing
UP AND DOWN
YOU AND I ARE HERE
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 1:29 PM UTC
A bag of potatoes and a baseball bat.
Is merely a sack of starchy vegetables and a sculpted metal stick.
But on this blustering evening a bag of potatoes and a baseball bat meant an infinity more than that.
In this fleeting moment, I felt solidarity with the fact that life doesn't make sense.
I looked at you in your adjacent flesh ridden essence and smiled at this opportunity to connect.
The bat clashing with the pock eyed potato skin.
Our existences colliding with ebb and flow of a maniac pulsation.
This is not merely a hackneyed show of baseball bat on a bag of potatoes.
This is a boy and a girl realizing that this ever sacred moment holds more gravity than merely a bag of potatoes and a baseball bat.
It's just that we can't conjure what makes it so rich and ever splendid... so thus it must be
rich and ever splendid as the potato is launched into flight igniting the curiously enraptured mind of boy and girl witnessing baseball bat on potato
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
Thud thud,
like the beat of a battle drum,
Hallowed cries of victory
Within the capillaries
of your body,
A faint pulsation of adrenaline,
Fresh from the free fall of another
Spiralling of self control,
Beneath layers of fair, smooth skin
lies the undulating tide of blood
and oxygen,
Cascading down narrow slivers
of your veins.
each shuddered breath
is another catalyst of
Life,
Another slam on the accelerator
that surges you further down
the fast lane,
Those faint pulses of yours
Never cease to amaze me.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
"Oh!"
Signal from wound to brain
Pain from lips to ears
Feet shuffle and stop
Water runs and ceases
Red drops on silver
Light bouncing off
Eyes winced
Fingers squeeze slice
To the bathroom
In the cabinet
Out comes a bandage
Over it wraps
Heart still racing
Blood still pumping
Pain still present
Raw pulsation
Rough sensation
Pure frustration
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
The passion released in the medley of intrigue
Flows restoring as an onrush of air
Deeply inhaled as a kiss of aching persuasion
Gently arresting the heart waiting there
A resonant fascination mesmerizes the pulsation
Tempting the acceleration to exceed
The natural precision, which is known to maintain
A rush of harmony, as the heart beats
There are some who will emphatically attempt to deny
This medley of delightful intrigue exists
As they have never inhaled, the passion released
By the aching persuasion of the kiss
If your heart has never felt this deep fascination
A swift acceleration that rises above
The natural precision, the heart's known to maintain
Then you have never, truly been in love
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 6:56 PM UTC
i love her
i love her so much
she's everything
i don’t understand it
the feelings that overcome my body
the thoughts that occupy my mind
nothing i have ever experienced
wholeheartedly foreign
whitman said
“we feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion”
i never understood it
until she gave it meaning
she entered my life without permission
and intertwined with my story in an instant
nothing else matters
she’s the only thing i can see
all can fall into ruin
i don't care
she's my only pinch of bliss
in this incessant cyclone of turbulence
she transforms the mundane into compelling
hopelessness into safety
darkness into light
all i want is her to be next to me
to hold my hand
and love me
the desire to share everything with her
makes me want to live
makes me not want to die
she's the love of my life
all i ever wanted and dreamt of
i adore every inch of her body and soul
i refuse to be without her
we shall never be apart
i will love her until my dying day
i just hope
she feels the same way
02/01/2019
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
My hands around your heart,
grip ceasing pulsation,
dying sconce, ember fades.
Convulsion, revulsion,
pathetic emotive,
response contradiction.
Electrically impulsive
transmission flat lines addiction,
and radiates into ether.
© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Our life’s definition
lies beyond what we use to define
life
emotion & thought
observation & action
acceptance & debate
our bodies heed to balance
like the earth to the moon & sun
we are forged by the unknown
as much as the known
through pulsation and reservation
do we align ourselves with
our true
resonation
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement of yours
when I deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words purple tinted.pointing the direction.
The mountain wind, when the leaf was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"
Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"
Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
I carried you on earthen wings
and when we began
the feathers that fell sprouted
fish which flew within our trail.
Milkweeds grew from the red-soiled banks. Their tops
spout like tiny fountains. The Birds bathed within
pink milkweed pools.
Downstream
a chained woman cried,
her blouse coated in sweat and her arms
pulled tight.
Her face lifted towards the sky,
and her mouth dripped thick saliva.
A broken windmill
floated in the gusts of wind
And the current flung us into space.
You gripped my neck
and ran your hands
to my chest. Your fingers stopped
at the pulsation
and you delivered a pin
to my left ventricle.
Poised and clenching we watched
the continents turn grey
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 4:45 PM UTC
Sweat, pulsation
Endless time
Rejuvenating in the filthy baths of purity
Hands embarking on loving journeys
Lips being praised as mighty warriors
Hearts beating
Bodies trembling
The sweet smell of intimate lust
Moans of desperation call out for mercy
Met only with further pounding and exhilaration
Souls entangled
Entities intertwined
In a hot mess of indescribable pleasure
Like a consuming force
that becomes an obsession
You're my obsession
I love you
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
The pulsation shared between you and I
Cannot be imprisoned within words
It is an immaculate resonation of ineffable union
Indistinguishable from perennial notions
Connecting two souls to two folds in that which does not harbor time
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
This object from high followed me
all evening. Sometimes, hiding behind
giant reeds shooting from the earth,
sometimes behind mist sprays.
The sea surging in the firmament
conceals it in her tresses now,
She who weeps her agony out
late every season in bereavement.
Her tears have filled up the valleys
on earth, with brackish waters.
Tonight the grilles that paint
the distance grey are wet by them.
I took a secret look, turning away
blushing on sudden reciprocation.
In the broken mirrors strewn
all over my lawn, it dunks winking:
ripples on the mirror, awash abashed:
light playing with shades of
delight, dejection, elation, suspension,
pulsation, susurration, salvation.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Lo, as a dove when up she springs
To bear thro' Heaven a tale of woe,
Some dolorous message knit below
The wild pulsation of her wings;
Like her I go; I cannot stay;
I leave this mortal ark behind,
A weight of nerves without a mind,
And leave the cliffs, and haste away
O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large,
And reach the glow of southern skies,
And see the sails at distance rise,
And linger weeping on the marge,
And saying; 'Comes he thus, my friend?
Is this the end of all my care?'
And circle moaning in the air:
'Is this the end? Is this the end?'
And forward dart again, and play
About the prow, and back return
To where the body sits, and learn
That I have been an hour away.
1.2k
The way your skin prickled -tight- over your hips
and the plunking -wet- noise of water
forced out of a cave
are what I remember about that December, lovely, oh, lovely.
Your -blonde- hair rippled and shook loose
with each ramming pulsation and throb -stab-
but your hair -curled- tight was rough. -Unmoving.-
below, dripped More, now, more.
Your toenails felt like ice -pink, red, buff- on my calf
they drew dragons between the forests of my -leg- hair
circling around, bumping –bruising- and chanting,
Be full, full.
Until –after- we lay limp and glistening in -love- dew
the floors creak and winds scratch -outside- too loud, -empty-
but,
We, -thought- we are whole.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
increase and decrease
brilliance and shadow
these pairs appear as
wax and wane..
in her wane she
restrains that light
preparing a room
birthing again our
shadowed creation..
the blinding wax
shines then hides
then shines again
a monthly pulsation..
careful to preserve
his precious creation
cradled within..
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
un-manned
armed
drone lovers
LOOKING FOR YOU!
x-ray eyes!
NO DREAM CAN ESCAPE
supreme scrutiny
and your need for
supreme supervision
for certainly
you
YIELD OR DIE
yield
to becoming
a
COMMODITY
yield to yielding
up your life
in exchange for
LIFE
the un-manned
armed
drone lovers
hover
hover.....hover
they
hover.....hover....hover
over your BED
every pulsation
every vibration
so carefully
"READ"
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 12:40 PM UTC
Bein' out in lake
Catchin' bass
A piece of cake
Don't take eyes
Off the candy
Randy
Catchin' sucker'd
Be dandy
Sweet-tooth'd scaring night
Rollin' hard
High kite
Lounging in floaty ecstatic
Roll still
Admire the galactic
Traverse through waters
I heard mutters
Hashish-bier thoughts unclear
In hand
A welcome of dry land
Pulsation of bass I hear
Naked timid music
Synth-like rave
Mystical Acoustic
Land so dry had drag'd me in
With cold sweating fear
She whisper'd
'trek 'r treat mm' dear'
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
Once you drove up in your
1977 Mercedes,
I could feel the hurried pulsation of a weary heart
over the clattered groan of your engine.
Clambering into my seat, I folded in on myself,
too timid to fold into you instead.
Creamed leather seats on a rusted turquoise shell
I look to the back, expecting some residue
of the last lipstick crush that you set fire to.
Instead, I found $1 books from the library
and your worn regalia that I would’ve stolen
and kept as filthy souvenirs.
A deep inhale of your burnout sheesha
that bobby pinned to tired marrow in my bones -
I would’ve taken you right then and there.
Instead, we played coy with the thin fabric of a relit friendship
and talked poetry and music over a ceramic bowl
of coconut chicken curry.
But all I romanced was a clustered cocktail
of my favorite things:
The drag of my curious fingertips
underneath your prickled jaw.
This fever building as I curl into your arms
and the corrupted graze of your hungry lips
in the groove of my neck.
Temptation at its finest.
Such promise between two starved pilgrims
But the descent down to the deep V between hips
is a sweet flame that
can easily burn you and leave pin pricked stains.
So its a good thing that I let you go.
October 17, 2013 4:38 PM
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
I try to will my hands to movement
but the energy that fails to stir them
is that of a dying spider
my hands are dying spiders
the weight of broken ballerina ankles rests on them
as one finger, one spindly leg reaches foreward with the fading pulsation of apathy and desperation
apathy pitted against desperation in a cage match thumping against the bars of my ribs i cannot funck fu k func function like this
i once saw a dying spider
she had been in the skylight for weeks
lights flooded the room and she floated down the middle
on a silver string, what skirts are made of for dancers
her legs slowly splayed as she turned so thin so light
in my head i heard played the last grand notes of swan lake
she landed her perfect pirouette to the end of her swan song
and dies to an admiring audience weighed of broken ballerina ankles
her spindly, skeleton leg reaches foreward
driven by desperation
slowing by apathy by starvation by stubbornness by fear
her legs curl unto herself
caging the match pitting apathy against desperation
she cannot fun...c..tio...n... like... this...
Silence falls on my eyes and creeps them closed as my hand
fails to reach the next letter
i desperately have to reach the next letter
but Apathy blinks and says
whats the point
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
The other night I spent at a barn party,
A hole mess of disgruntled youth,
Each writhing like mystics caught in a trance.
Each with their own glow-stick crowns,
Funneling through their brains ,
Comatose limbs and lashing tongues.
Goodbye my sweet children,
As I watch them sputter down the drain,
An entire generation lost to the Euphoria
Of crazed spin doctor hypnotists.
Each running for a new glass of punch,
Loud electro-pulsing angst fills the air,
How dare he blow his smoke at me.
***** lines and failed acrobats,
Wild youth and ****** veterans.
Each morning, wake up,
Teacher tells you you’re wrong,
Go home, get in bed,
Wait for dreams to come like waves
Crashing down overhead on your sweet pillow.
Never has the true disgust come out,
Drunken women throwing themselves at me,
Twisting and jeering to the rabid pulsation,
I cannot find him.
Fighting through an endless sea of ecstasy,
Brief Nostalgia takes hold.
It is gone, gone like the wind blows,
Through tunnels, over oceans.
Will I see the light of day again?
Maybe,
Just one more glimpse of the sun.
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC